Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (4 page)

“We have a record of phone calls, but the content of the

calls could’ve been about anything. For all we know, they

could’ve been lovers.” Lucas leered at Liz pointedly.

But Liz didn’t shrink from the D.A.’s sly remark. “I would

think that the publicist would be falling all over herself to

turn on Hol is Carver.”

A.D.A. Meriwether looked down and shifted in her seat.

Liz looked from Lucas to Meriwether and gave a dry laugh.

“Wait a minute. The publicist has already made a deal,

hasn’t she?”

Lucas took his arrogant time answering. “Yes. So as it turns

out, we don’t need your client’s testimony after al , Ms.

Fischer. Although it’s good to know that his story

corroborates the publicist’s.”

Wesley heaved a huge sigh of relief and pushed to his feet.

“I’m outta here.” Once the room was vacated, he’d come

back to rescue the flattened capsule.

But Liz stopped him with a warning glance.

“Not so fast, Wren,” Lucas said, then leaned back in his

seat with a satisfied smile. “You confessed to conspiring to

steal a body.”

Wesley sat back down, his stomach churning with dread.

Something was up.

“But the body wasn’t stolen,” Liz protested. “And my client

came clean.”

“Only after the plan was foiled,” Lucas returned. “And

besides confessing to a felony, your client’s actions revoke

his previous probation. He’s going to jail.”

Panic skewered Wesley’s chest. He’d spent a few hours in

jail when he’d been arrested for hacking into the

courthouse computer. He’d passed the time and kept the

pervs at bay by teaching the other guys in holding how to

play Texas Hold ’Em poker, but he didn’t relish the thought

of going back.

Liz angled her head. “Kelvin, isn’t this all a moot point? We

both know that Hol is Carver is an informant for the APD

and wil probably get a pass.”

Lucas blanched. “Who told you that he was an informant?”

“I have my sources,” Liz said silkily.

Wesley pressed his lips together. Liz must be back to

banging Detective Jack Terry again, if they’d ever stopped.

“So why drag us in here today?” she demanded. “What do

you want, Kelvin?”

The D.A. screwed up his mouth and bared his crooked

teeth. “Maybe young Wren here has some information

about his long-lost daddy he’d like to trade for his

freedom?”

Wesley fisted his hands and started to rise. “You

motherfu—”

“Wesley—” Liz cut in sharply, reaching up to place her

hand on his chest. “Sit down.”

He dropped back into the chair, but didn’t bother to hide

his contempt for Lucas.

“We’ve been over this before,” Liz said calmly. “My client

doesn’t know anything about the whereabouts of his

father. Come on, there must be something else we can do

to work this out. Wesley is performing wel under the

terms of his probation, his supervisor in the city computer

department says he’s excel ing at his community service.”

Lucas’s mouth formed a long, thin line. “If your client is so

smart, he’l take what I have to offer.”

Liz wet her lips. “Which is?”

“I want Hol is Carver behind bars on something that wil

stick. I think his son is distributing drugs for him.”

Liz gave a dry laugh. “You want to set up your own

informant?”

“We only made Carver an informant so he’d let down his

guard. We thought we’d be able to get closer to him, but

we need someone on the inside.”

Liz’s shoulders went rigid. “You want my client to go

undercover in The Carver’s organization?”

A smile spread over Lucas’s toady face. “It’s a win-win

situation. He gets to work off his debt to The Carver, and

work off his debt to society at the same time.”

Liz shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. The man is an

animal.”

“It’l be safer,” the D.A. insisted. “Your client won’t be

running from The Carver, he’l be working for him. He’l be

too valuable to rough up.”

“Why should I trust you?” Wesley asked. “You went back

on the deal you made with my sister.”

“This one wil be put in writing,” Lucas said.

Wesley barked out a hoarse laugh. “What am I supposed

to do, just walk up to The Carver and ask him to put me on

the payrol ?”

Lucas nodded. “Something like that. We’l provide you

with a contact in the APD who wil guide you through the

process.”

“How long are we talking about here?” Liz asked. “A few

weeks? Months?”

“That depends on your client’s ability to blend in with

criminals.” Lucas smirked. “Something tel s me he’ll be

good at it.”

A backhanded compliment, Wesley realized, even with his

mind racing in circles. “My sister wil worry herself sick—”

“You can’t tel your sister,” the D.A. interrupted. “No one

can know except the people in this room and your contact

at the police department. If we discover that you’ve told

anyone, even your damn priest, we’l find another stool

pigeon, and you’l be put in a cage, got it, Wren?”

Anger was a powerful motivator, Wesley realized. His mind

was misfiring and sputtering, but even through the haze,

he could process pure emotion. From now on, his life’s

mission was to get even with Kelvin Lucas, to humiliate

him the way he’d humiliated the Wren family.

The D.A. splayed his hands. “So what do you say, Wesley?

Do you want to work for me or do you want to go to jail

and make new friends?” Under the table, Lucas moved his

foot back and forth. The capsule had burst and the

precious white powder was being ground into the carpet.

Wesley gritted his teeth against the desperation swel ing

in his chest. God, how he’d love to spit in the man’s face.

But his sister would be devastated if he went to jail. And

he couldn’t very wel help his father if he was sitting in the

slammer.

“And all charges against my client regarding the body-

snatching incident wil be dropped?” Liz asked.

“I’l drop it to a misdemeanor and add to his community

service for appearances’ sake. That way no one’s

suspicious.”

Liz turned toward Wesley. “It’s a good deal,” she

murmured. “My advice is to take it.”

“And what if The Carver finds out what I’m doing?” Wesley

asked, rubbing his arm where the man had already etched

part of his name.

“Make sure he doesn’t find out,” Lucas said flatly. “Do we

have a deal?”

More than anything, Wesley just wanted to get out of the

building, ride to Chance’s and get a bag of Oxy. Even his

eyelids were starting to sweat. “Okay,” he grumbled.

“Good,” Lucas said, pushing to his feet so triumphantly

that Wesley immediately wanted to take it back. “We’l be

in touch, Ms. Fischer.”

After the pair left the room, Liz touched Wesley’s shaking

hand. “You made the right decision. Do this, and you’l

come out debt free on the other side.”

Wesley stared at the white powder stain on the carpet in

despair and nodded numbly. Debt free—or dead.

3

Carlotta swal owed the last Percocet capsule from the

bottle and returned her purse to her locker. She glanced in

the mirror mounted on the door and smoothed her finger

over the frown line between her brows that had become

more pronounced recently. Leaning close, she noticed

wryly that the furrow bore a distinct resemblance to the

letter W—for Wesley.

Her brother was going to be the death of her youth.

She slammed the door closed and returned to the sales

floor where the crowd waiting for the Eva McCoy

appearance had swel ed. Carlotta joined Patricia, who was

back and passing out tickets.

“Did you get your charm bracelet?” Carlotta asked.

Patricia nodded and pul ed back her jacket sleeve to

display the silver bracelet and dangling charms. “But I’m

confused. These charms have absolutely no correlation to

anything in my life. There’s a little dog charm, and I have

two cats. And a baseball glove, when I’ve never played any

sport except tennis. A lion, which might stand for Leo, but

I’m an Aries. A Texas steer head, and I don’t eat meat. And

a broom. How weird is that?”

Carlotta pursed her mouth to keep from making a

comment about the broom as a mode of transportation. “I

thought the idea was that the charms are random, a way

of challenging you to try something new.”

Patricia frowned. “So I’m supposed to try sweeping? And

baseball? Right.” She sighed. “My bracelet is a bust.” Then

she held up a brown box. “But I bought one for you.”

Carlotta gave a little gurgle of surprise. “You shouldn’t

have.”

“I know you said you had an old one, but maybe it’s time

you replaced it.” Patricia shrugged. “You know—start

some new memories.”

Carlotta sighed. She really didn’t want to have to like the

woman, dammit. But she accepted the box and

murmured, “Thanks.” She opened the box and pul ed out

the tray that held the silver charm bracelet.

“What did you get?”

Carlotta squinted as she fingered the tiny dangling charms.

“This one looks like a puzzle piece.”

“Ooh, that’s intriguing—as if you need to figure out

something.”

Carlotta pursed her mouth again. As if. “And this one says

aloha.” She shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t mind visiting

Hawaii someday. And this one…it’s hearts.”

Patricia frowned. “There’s something wrong. There are

three hearts instead of two.”

“Uh-hmm,” Carlotta murmured. “Strange, huh?” But her

pulse quickened in spite of her skepticism. Three hearts,

three men in her life.

“Oh, look!” Patricia said with a squeal. “It’s two

champagne glasses. That must mean you’re going to have

something to celebrate. Oh, you’re so lucky!”

Carlotta scoffed. “It doesn’t mean anything—it’s just a

charm. This is like opening a box of Cracker Jacks. Don’t

take it seriously.”

“What’s that one?” Patricia asked, pointing to the last

charm, a long, slender piece of shaped metal.

“It looks like…a woman. Just a woman.”

“Her arms are crossed over her chest—maybe she’s a

cheerleader.”

Carlotta’s eyebrows went up. “Uh, yeah.”

“Were you a cheerleader?”

“A lifetime ago.” Actually, high school seemed like another

century. On another planet.

“Wel , that must be it then,” Patricia said eagerly.

Carlotta nodded and allowed Patricia to help her fasten

the catch on the bracelet. She didn’t want to say what the

last charm looked like to her—a woman in corpse pose.

And she wasn’t talking yoga.

Pushing the eerie charm from her mind, she craned her

neck, trying to get a three-hundred-sixty-degree glance

around, wondering where the dynamic detective duo had

disappeared to. Maybe they’d found an empty dressing

room to inspect.

She wrestled with the unreasonable stab of jealousy. She

and Jack had had a nice time in the sack when he’d stayed

at her house once doing surveil ance, but that episode had

ended disastrously. They were on opposite sides of too

many issues, including her father. Besides, since the

reckless bout of bone-jarring sex with Jack, she’d flirted

with a fling with Cooper Craft, and now…she’d made

promises to Peter. In fact, she had a dinner date with Peter

after work.

Which left no time for worrying about who—er, make that

what—Jack was in to.

“I think that lady is trying to get your attention,” Patricia

said, nodding to someone in the crowd.

Carlotta turned to look and was pleased to see June

Moody, the owner of Moody’s cigar lounge, waving.

Carlotta threaded through the horde of bodies to clasp the

woman’s hands. June was dressed elegantly, as always, in

a slim skirt and starched white shirt. Her hair and heels

were high, and her smile, wide.

“I was hoping you’d be working today,” June said, then

touched the arm of a broad-shouldered man next to her.

“Carlotta Wren, meet my son, Sergeant Mitchel Moody.”

Remembering that June had once hinted that she and her

military son weren’t close, Carlotta was able to mask her

surprise by the time he turned in her direction.

The first thing that struck her about Mitchel Moody was

his sheer physical authority—the man was the size of a

small mountain, with lots of impressive hil s on the upward

climb. The second thing she noticed were his eyes—they

were the palest blue and laser-intense. Even in jeans, a red

polo-style shirt and athletic shoes, the man screamed

military. His head was shaved and tanned, his cheekbones

sharp, his posture rifle straight. It wasn’t hard to imagine

him dressed in fatigues and combat boots, wielding a

weapon and defending the American way.

A little shiver traveled up her spine. The man was

rather…what was the word?

Hot.

“Hi, Carlotta,” he said with a smile that seemed rusty. He

swept an appreciative glance over her, and she flushed

with…patriotism.

“Nice to meet you, Mitchel .”